


the v card

by fan_nerd



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluffy Smut, M/M, extra super consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 05:21:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8832013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fan_nerd/pseuds/fan_nerd
Summary: See, the thing is, Victor is a virgin.He's been in relationships, sure, but sex has always been one step too far for him to take things.So, he sits there on Yuuri's bed, desperate to have sex with him, even though his stupid reputation of being an erotic god is a hoax.





	

**Author's Note:**

> it's me. back again!! with more,,,schmoopy yoi fic :')
> 
> thanks as always for your love and support. couldn't do it without you, fandom. ♥

Victor Nikiforov has something of a reputation, is the thing.

The web publishes news about him all the time:  _Hot Bachelor Nikiforov Found with Latest Fling_ ,  _Who Hasn't Slept with Living Legend Nikiforov?_ , and, his personal favorite,  _Need a Freak Like Victor? See Our Tips For Details_.

He's not exactly sure where they got this heinous information about him. Actually, if he thinks back, somehow, some way, the whole ordeal is Christophe's fault.

"I'm just saying," the Swiss man tells him at the Grand Prix when Victor takes first for the second year in a row. "You could sleep with me and actually make the rumors  _true_."

"I don't  _want_ to sleep with you, Chris." Victor rolls his eyes while the man who is closest to being his best friend plays with his hair in the hotel room. "That's the problem. I'm not some...stupid sex-crazed fox, or whatever the fuck the media keeps painting me as." His feet dangle off of the too-short mattress and he groans when Chris laughs. "Don't laugh, you horrible man."

"Just let them keep thinking you're a scatterbrained, sex-obsessed moron," Chris says, letting his robe fall off of his shoulders before snapping a picture of the two of them. When he shows it to Victor, the silver-haired champion whistles. It's pretty damn risqué. "That'll fool them into thinking they can catch you off-guard at tournaments. Besides, didn't you just break up with your...what? Girlfriend, this time? Boyfriend?"

"I had a fairly casual arrangement with people of both genders this time," Victor mutters tiredly, burying his face in the pillow. "Post your silly scandal-bound photo online. See if I care. The media is going to have a field day."

Sure enough, the next day, the headlines live up to their expectations. The picture circles around the web with more and more notes every time they see it, and the news grabs hold of the attention to present to them the best lie yet:  _Victor Nikiforov (RUS) and Christophe Giacometti (SUI)_   _Enjoy_ _a Steamy Night After the Grand Prix._

Victor laughs until he's nearly in tears at that.

//

By the time his fourth Grand Prix gold medal is in his hands, Victor Nikiforov is  _staggered_  by the sheer amount of sexual propositions he receives. They come to him in person, send him emails laden with heart, tongue, and eggplant emojis, and thrust themselves in his direction.

He's fine with kisses and more-than-half-naked pictures, because he's comfortable with his body, and he's kind of a clingy dude, but as soon as one of his bedfellows suggests a more physically involved activity than heavy petting, Victor stalks out of the room and blocks all of their contact information.

Victor feels doomed to live this strange existence, wondering if he'll ever find that person out there for him, the one who'll finally change his attitude about pushing people out of his space if their hands linger too long on his ass or want to paw at the front of his pants until he goes flaccid because of their urgency.

His friends often make fun of him for refusing to have sex until the time is right, but he doesn't care.

When he finds  _that_ person, he feels like it's going to be worth it.

//

Grand Prix gold medal number five rests around his neck and he sighs. His blue eyes are roaming over his competitors, who are all downtrodden, except Chris and JJ, who look pretty damn satisfied with placing second and third.

He goes to take all of his pictures - and he's so glad for his casual fans, who don't pressure him too much, and give him his distance after he's tired of smiling and posing. He offers to take pictures with his fellow skaters as well, but instead of receiving a polite acceptance or refusal, the Japanese man four years his junior stalks off with a closed-off expression.

The banquets are usually so frustrating, having to commit to telling the same dull story over and over again. Of course, it's always fun to see Chris get rejected and snap kissy-face pictures with everyone he's seen for years, but mostly he just has to chat absently and wait for the event to be over.

Suddenly, the same man he'd seen leaving the arena with a downtrodden expression is clearly inebriated and he challenges his young rink mate to a dance battle. Victor laughs in surprise.

Yuuri Katsuki sweeps the dance hall with a glorious energy, swaying with anyone who'll spend five minutes with him. He smirks and flushes, presses too close to all his peers, unhinged and lively in all of his inhibition. Lastly, he dances with Victor, and Victor, much to his own surprise, lets the Japanese man into his space after laughing his way through one of the best nights of his life. Yuuri grinds against him and the Russian man finds himself swept with a rush of lust.  _Damn_. He's been pressed like this a hundred times, but it's never made him this nervous. The smaller man is  _that_ good, and Victor is practically embarrassed with how handsome he finds his drunk cavalier.

Victor receives an invitation so  _bizarre_ that he thinks about it all night, thinks of Yuuri's flushed cheeks and watery eyes, and  _wow_ , holy shit.

He has a crush on a guy he might never see again, unless he takes Yuuri up on his airily-presented offer.

It totally sucks.

//

Yuuri makes Victor  _persistent_.

He's not used to being the one who has to charm somebody, and it becomes a source of pride for him to win Yuuri's attention. Yuuri flushes and scampers away and Victor  _knows_ the other man is at least somewhat attracted to him. This fuels the Russian's energy to creep ever closer, wrapping his arms around Yuuri as much as the smaller man will let him, cooing in his ear. He conveniently uses his dog for fucking  _bonus points_.

Victor paces himself so that he's not rushing Yuuri - it's not like he'd know what to do if things took a more sexual turn anyways. He does his best to coach Yuuri, as he'd been asked to do, as he'd been even further inspired by that video, where Yuuri had been sexy as all get out moving through Victor's routine, the one that had basically been his cry for help the year previous.

The point at which he knows that everything has changed, he keeps dreaming of that stupid night in Sochi, keeps dreaming of what it could have been.

Now that he constantly shares space with Yuuri, his delusions get even further out of control. He pushes his cheeks close to Yuuri's face and hopes, quietly, that the other man will see past his flirty facade, push back, and make Victor beg for a kiss, much like he'd made Victor beg to dance with him months ago.

Foggily, he hopes for what he's never even thought he would like - Yuuri's touch on his naked skin, all over, inside of him. It burns through his mind and Victor lies awake at night with Makkachin in his arms, wishing and hoping that one day, Yuuri will do all the things he's thought about. He's unsure of how well he'll stack up against Yuuri's buoyant passion.

A horrid thought strikes him partway through his stay in Hasetsu as they prepare for the crux of the season that begins in Autumn.

Yuuri's a fan. He's told Victor so himself; his family and friends have solidified the stories. Which means, much to his dismay, Yuuri probably thinks he's some suave, experienced bachelor who's seen more ass than the great renaissance artists.

The thought makes his stomach sink.

//

"Victor?" Victor's eyes are tracing the hypnotic line of Yuuri's plump pink lips and he only snaps out of his trance when Yuuri furrows his brow and calls him again. " _Victor_!" 

"Yes, I'm Victor," the tall man replies absently.

"Stop staring so hard," Yuuri flushes as he averts his gaze. "I know you wanna kiss, but our booking at the rink is gonna be over in ten minutes." He flicks his dark eyes up towards Victor's needy, focused blue ones and smiles. "I want you to help me work on landing this quad."

"Okay," Victor replies softly, still in a daze. He still can't believe they had their first kiss on international television.

He's become absolutely obsessed with Yuuri's lips since then and it's becoming a problem.

They are just so full, and kissable, and Yuuri wipes out while he's still daydreaming, so he gives an offhand comment about his footwork before pushing off for the jump. After five attempts, they both consider it a wash for now and begin a cool down.

When Yuuri towels his sweat off in the changing room, Victor stands against the lockers with his arms folded over his chest, salivating over Yuuri's peak-season form. Yuuri looks up at him from behind his rectangular glasses and smiles shyly. "Hey," he calls Victor over while he pulls his jacket on. "C'mere."

Victor wanders over like the lovelorn fool he is and dreamily slips into Yuuri's arms. "You're being so cute. I'm going to die."

"Don't be so dramatic," Yuuri chuckles lowly, kissing both of Victor's cheeks with a torrid blush. "C'mon. Let's go home." He loops their hands together and Victor's heart soars. He's seen many people, but none of them have made him feel quite so human as Yuuri, and he wants to test his limits. It finally feels like everything makes sense, and he wants to feel that sweet burn of unraveling with his  _boyfriend_. Yuuri and Victor swing their hands steadily as they walk back to the inn. Victor shampoos and combs Yuuri's hair in the baths, and Yuuri washes Victor's back.

When they get out, they kiss. It starts off soft, but as they tumble out of the changing room and further up the stairs towards Victor's bedroom, the kisses are becoming decidedly more heated, and Victor's heart practically leaps out of his chest.

Yuuri's been too nervous around him to make a move, but here, now, it seems like he's finally willing to play the game.

Victor would never tell him, but he's been impatient for Yuuri to peel his own clothing off and kiss him senseless for months, so he's been keeping supplies in his bag, just in case.

They stumble awkwardly onto the mattress, nearly tripping over each other in their rush to get clothes off and kiss more skin. Yuuri's fingers are taut and exploratory, and Victor flushes with anticipation, wriggling his body against Yuuri with a practiced movement.

The two men get each other off with labored breaths and an overabundant amount of lube. Then, Yuuri looks up, sweat dripping from his brow, and heatedly says, "Is there anything else that you want to do? I can go back to my room, if you want me to."

"No!" Victor yelps nervously, grabbing Yuuri's wrist with sweaty palms. "Wait, don't go, please. It's too early."

Yuuri smiles softly, fingers sliding against Victor's. "Oh, god, okay. I was worried you were, like, holding back for my sake or something." He looks away and breathes shakily, unable to keep his lips from creeping upwards. "But don't be, okay? I want this." He shakes his head to clear his own worries to stare at Victor, reading the wonder plainly in the Russian man's face. "I want you. Tomorrow's a rest day, and, I just. I wanted you to know that, but there's no rush or anything."

While he stammers, Victor's heart beats out of control.

For what feels like ages, he struggles with choking out words about his stupid,  _stupid_ reputation, but after about one minute, he finally says, "I'm, uh, I'm not..." He looks at the curiosity burning in Yuuri's eyes and turns beet red. "I'm a virgin too."

"Uh?" Yuuri blinks like he's trying to do an exceptionally difficult calculation. "Sorry, what?"

"I am... _inexperienced_ , in the bedroom," Victor murmurs, rubbing the back of his neck while Yuuri gapes at him. "I've always messed around a bit, but I've never done anything more intrusive than to initiate a particularly slobbery kiss."

"So, the notorious playboy, living legend Victor Nikiforov," Yuuri whispers in awe, "Has never slept with  _anyone_?"

"Oh, stop it, you make me sound so silly," Victor dramatically sighs, huffing when Yuuri pulls him into a hug and laughs. "No. Never. For the record, I've never received nor practiced oral, either. The media just sees me draping myself over people and kissing all my competitors and  _voilà!_ Reporters spin tales of my incredibly nonexistent trysts."

"Did you just not want to?" Yuuri whispers softly, looking concerned. "Am I taking things too far right now?"

"No," Victor assures him, kissing his chest. "I wanted to..." He buries his face so that Yuuri can't see his embarrassment as he mutters, "I wanted to wait. For the right person, and the right time. It never felt right."

"I get that," Yuuri says, flitting a hand through Victor's hair. "I'm pretty much the same way. I guess I'm just so surprised because you're, you know,  _you_." He lets his lips graze the top of Victor's hair while he smiles and speaks. "You always felt out of reach - unobtainable, unreal, a connoisseur of all life had to offer. The fact that we have that in common is just like. Wow. It makes me think,  _he's really human_ , you know?" Victor looks up at that with tears in his eyes. "Oh, shit, sorry. Should I get tissues? Or Makkachin? Maybe both?"

"No, please," Victor clings to him even though they're both clammy, misty-eyed, and naked. "Please just stay here with me. You're warm."

"Yeah, because I'm really freaking embarrassed," Yuuri mumbles softly, moving so that the two of them are lying on the bed and he slots himself against Victor to be the big spoon. "And still a little hard, sorry."

"Don't be," Victor mumbles back, burrowing into Yuuri's warmth and grinning like a fool while he sniffles. "It's kind of sweet."

"What the hell? Who's being cute now?" Yuuri asks while he dances his fingers across Victor's lithe chest, closing his eyes.

"You. Always you, darling."

Yuuri snickers and it tickles the back of Victor's neck. "Yeah, right. You're taking the cute cake right now. The  _cutest_."

"Preposterous," Victor whispers back, closing his eyes as well.

//

The two of them try and fail to have sex four more times before the Rostelecom Cup and fail for a variety of reasons. The tournament itself is incredibly draining, so there is no time to even consider romping around in bed, no matter how glorious Yuuri's stamina. Instead, they wait until they get back to Hasetsu, and the mood is right, so they slip away from dinner and go up to Victor's room - never Yuuri's, because he insists that his bed is too small for the both of them.

Yuuri's lips dig into the sensitive skin of Victor's neck. When his eyes roll back and he groans, rutting slowly against Yuuri's hips, both of them know that they're too far gone and they're eager to get the show on the road.

"What do you want to do?" Yuuri asks, fingers searing, scrabbling for purchase as he undresses Victor and tries his damnedest to kiss the sense out of the taller man. "You want to be on top? Bottom? You just want me to use my hands?"

"Fuck, Yuuri, I want anything," Victor moans lowly, pulling Yuuri's sweatpants down to trace the line of his quickly stiffening dick with a hazy look on his face. "Everything."

"Do you want to fuck me?" Yuuri looks up with his bright red cheeks and Victor swoons again, threatening to pass out from overheating.

"No," Victor insists, taking Yuuri's hands in his and licking his fingertips with intense deliberation. "I want you to fuck _me_. I want to feel it. I want to remember being sore because of you."

Yuuri whines a bit in response. "Oh, man, I am literally gonna pass out and die."

"Feeling pretty much the same," Victor replies quickly, pulling away from his boyfriend only to grab the necessary materials for the sex to take place, grinning with equal parts nerves and eagerness.

Yuuri tries to keep his hands from trembling as he slicks his fingers, then anchors Victor's legs over his shoulders like it's a great effort and he forces himself not to hyperventilate. It helps that Victor just keeps murmuring encouraging words in low, steady English, holding onto Yuuri with a small smile and every bit of patience he can muster.

"Okay," Yuuri breathes out heavily, slick fingers resting in front of Victor's entrance. "You ready?"

"Yeah," Victor whispers in response, working very hard not to squeeze his eyes shut so he can enjoy the sight of Yuuri studying him.

Yuuri crooks one finger in with a racing heart, waiting for Victor to screech or tell him to pull out immediately and being immensely relieved when the older man does not. Victor's face is a myriad of emotions as the Japanese man pushes around his ass, simply caught up in the sensation. "How's that feel?"

"Can't tell yet. Strange. Kind of warm," Victor answers seriously.

Yuuri barks out a laugh and smiles sheepishly. "I can stop."

"No. You can do more," Victor assures him softly, twining their free hands together.

Yuuri pushes in another finger, delves deeper, scissoring the silver-haired man open and Victor gasps. His tongue lolls a bit before he bucks down into Yuuri's touch, his fingers clenching around Yuuri's knuckles. "That...feels really different."

"Good different, I hope?" Yuuri watches him carefully, and Victor slowly, tantalizingly licks his lips.

"Very good." He clamps down on Yuuri as Yuuri keeps fishing for Victor's sweet spot, and when the younger man finds it, Victor groans loudly. " _Incredibly_ good."

"More fingers?" Yuuri offers.

"More  _anything_ ," Victor dreamily says, pulling Yuuri down so he can kiss him chastely on the lips. "If you want to."

"Yeah, definitely want to," Yuuri drools a bit, moving so that he can roll a condom over himself and slick that up until it's almost disgustingly smooth to the touch. "You're really sure?"

He loops his arms around Yuuri as best he can and smiles. "Yes, I'm sure."

"Okay," Yuuri murmurs. "You can tell me to stop any time, I promise."

"Alright," Victor says.

Yuuri aligns himself with heavy, hot breaths, nipping at Victor's skin while he works up the courage to use his fingers to start pushing his own dick inside of Victor, on the verge of losing his mind at the looming heat.

Victor looks blissed out already, and Yuuri belatedly realizes he hasn't even touched the older man's penis yet. As soon as he's settled halfway inside of Victor and Victor is mewling, Yuuri pours more lube on his fingers and teases Victor's slit. "This is really erotic," Yuuri breathes absently, taking a moment to settle before he pulls and pushes back in, thrusting deeper the second time, making Victor groan. " _God_. I'm gonna come early and screw this up, holy fuck."

"It's okay if you do," Victor manages to say between Yuuri's slow thrusts. "Go faster, please. I love the feeling of you moving inside me."

"Wow, okay," Yuuri blushes furiously, eager to obey. He comes fairly quickly, as promised, but he's still stiff enough to rut inside of Victor while he mouths at the pale man's chest and absently notes that he's rubbed an orgasm out of Victor as well. "Hey. Hey, Victor, still with me?"

Victor's blue eyes are wide and glossy, and he airily grins up at Yuuri. "Yep, sorry."

"Was it good?" Yuuri blinks expectantly, looking like he really would pass out and die if Victor says no.

"Exceptionally so," Victor replies, pulling Yuuri down for a full, lazy kiss. They slip together as Yuuri carefully puts his legs down on the bed, rolling hips bracketing each other's while they both run hands through their partner's hair. "So good. I could do it again, right now."

Yuuri pulls away to laugh. "Right now? That good?"

" _You're_ that good," Victor assures him, brushing hair out of Yuuri's face.

"You could fuck me this time," Yuuri offers, eager to try it out and see what Victor means.

"Sure," Victor smiles against Yuuri's cheek. "I'd like that."

Victor gets everything out twice as cautiously, slowly exploring Yuuri's body and hoping beyond all hope that he can give Yuuri as exquisite a pleasure as Yuuri had given him.

A few minutes later, when he makes Yuuri's head toss back and they both come all over the bed sheets, he wagers that this activity, with this man, is more fun than he could have ever dreamed.

//

Victor texts Chris several days later.

_> Lost my virginity! ♥ See you in Barcelona soon~_

Chris rolls his eyes at the message, pulling up his Dior shades to take a reaction picture.

_> Am I supposed to be surprised? Didn't you just text me and say that you wanted to propose to him last week?_

Victor grins widely at the screen before texting back.

_> Well, yes. He's the best thing that ever happened to me. I love him._

_> Later, Chris!_

Christophe Giacometti figures his time to keep slipping reporters useless information in an effort to keep them off of Victor's back is over. He pulls his shades back over his face and smiles, glad that his friend is enjoying himself, at least.

Probably the most unfortunate part of it all is that neither man ever thanks him for his help - physically, preferrably, because he's a thirsty hoe - but he gets over it quickly.

He's a good friend like that.

**Author's Note:**

> they're all gay. i don't even care. try to stop me
> 
> come say hello to me on tumblr! [@wbtrashking](http://wbtrashking.tumblr.com)


End file.
